


Venus Transit (The Ballad of Eames and Ellie)

by kore_rising



Series: Celestial Bodies [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kore_rising/pseuds/kore_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><span class="small">Rating: NC-17/M<br/>Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur<br/>Notes/Warnings: For <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/11005.html?thread=23143165#t23143165">this</a> prompt at<span class="ljuser ljuser-name_inception_kink"><a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/"><b>inception_kink</b></a></span>: Ariadne <a href="http://www.sleep-eat-paris.com/paris-hotel-reviews/one-by-the-five.html">books this hotel</a>. Arthur is somehow deceived into going along. Sexytimes ensues. Whether they're in an established relationship or not is completely up to you, anon!</span></p><p><span class="small">This continues the story told in <a href="http://kore-rising.livejournal.com/5003.html"><em>Paraselene</em></a> and <a href="http://kore-rising.livejournal.com/13246.html"><em>Mars Ascending</em></a>, but you don't need to read either of those for this to make any sense.</span></p><p><span class="small">The characters, setting and story of <em>Inception</em> are the property of Christopher Nolan and no cash is being made from this story.</span></p>
    </blockquote>





	Venus Transit (The Ballad of Eames and Ellie)

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: NC-17/M  
> Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur  
> Notes/Warnings: For [this](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/11005.html?thread=23143165#t23143165) prompt at[](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[ **inception_kink**](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/) : Ariadne [books this hotel](http://www.sleep-eat-paris.com/paris-hotel-reviews/one-by-the-five.html). Arthur is somehow deceived into going along. Sexytimes ensues. Whether they're in an established relationship or not is completely up to you, anon!
> 
> This continues the story told in [_Paraselene_](http://kore-rising.livejournal.com/5003.html) and [_Mars Ascending_](http://kore-rising.livejournal.com/13246.html), but you don't need to read either of those for this to make any sense.
> 
> The characters, setting and story of _Inception_ are the property of Christopher Nolan and no cash is being made from this story.

It all started with a question: "Eames, what are you doing for Valentine's Day?"

We were alone in the workshop on a quiet January afternoon. Paris was colder than the bottom of a deep freeze. Outside the sky stark white and the trees all black spiny branches, withered witch fingers pointing to the paper blank heavens. The faint hiss of the wind was rattling the windows and for once we had both been working quietly, only the occasional clatter of a pen being put down or a page turning disturbing our peace. Part of the reason for the calm was Arthur and Cobb taking a month long two man job in Berlin, thus leaving Eames without anyone to tease ("Don't tell him I miss that, will you?" He had smiled wryly at me during our first week alone) and me without my partner, something I had never expected to leave me feeling quite so...well, perhaps the word was melancholy. I hated the thought of being one of those women who pines and wanes when her beloved is away, never expected it of myself, but when on the first night he was gone I found myself wrapping one of his t shirts around my pillow and curling up on his side of our bed I realised that perhaps some part of me needed him, loved him, more than it cared to admit. Of course,  I used the opportunity to spend time with my friends, went out for drinks and meals, read, sketched and watched TV. Arthur and I talked on the phone and he sent me surprisingly warm toned emails, but there was something about not having him around that made me feel just a little lost, a little aimless, a tiny bit lonely for his touch and his smell and his voice. Just a bit.

Eames looked up and took a sip of tea. "For Valentine's Day? That's not for another three weeks." He frowned. "Why?" I shuffled the papers on my table and tried to sound nonchalant.  
"Oh, you know, just making conversation."  
"Conversation? Ariadne, don't bullshit me. You _make conversation_ approximately once in a blue moon. What is it? Missing old starchy drawers and his fascinating chit chat?" He made a face, watching me keenly as I picked up and dropped a pencil, fumbled with my coffee cup then mumbled. "A bit."

"Oh sweetheart," he sighed, getting up and parking himself at my table, tweed covered elbows all over my drawings, "you're always welcome to give Ellie and I a bell if you're rattling around that apartment by yourself of a Saturday night." The teasing had gone out of his face, and unless I was utterly mistaken, real concern was in it's place.  
"I didn't want to intrude. I mean, Ellie's lovely but we've barely met, how would she feel if I barged in on your private time?"  
"She would be fine. She likes you. Especially since you knocked Justin _"I am the social networking God!"_ Folds on his ass." He smirked at the memory. "She was telling me that in her job the guys always think it's fine to try and cop a feel, as if somehow it's a perk and the women should expect it. Watching you lay one into him made her more happy than you can ever know."

"But...you never really talk about her, you know?" I picked up my coffee, watching his face soften. "We know you're seeing her, but it's like..." He sat back and sipped his tea.  
"That's because contrary to popular belief I like my private life to stay private. What I do away from here is my affair, so rambling on about her from dawn to dusk isn't exactly my speed."  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just a little...curious." He smiled, a devastatingly warm expression that was so genuine it made my heart ache.  
"Alright, fair dos. For the next ten minutes you may quiz me on my relationship, my plans for Valentines, Ellie, the whole caboodle. I mean, it's not like I don't know you and Arthur back to front..."  
"You don't!" I felt my expression rearrange in shock as he snorted.  
"Fine, OK, I don't. But I know more about you two than you know about me. So go on, Magnus, do your worst." He sat up straight, hands in his lap and his face serious. I worked my mouth silently for a second, then plumped for the first thing that came into my head. "What does she do?"  
"She is a make up and prosthetics artist specialising in film and theatre." He rattled off. "She's very good with latex." He added cheekily.  
"How old is she?"  
"A gentleman never asks a lady's age." He pursed his lips primly. "Not that I care about that anyway. Late twenties, I believe."

I warmed up under his intimate tone. "How did you meet her?"  
"Ah now," he smiled hugely again, "there's a story. Do you remember the extraction we did on Kinsale?"  
"The confectionery guy?" Of course I remembered. I seemed to recall wanting to recreate Willy Wonka's chocolate room, complete with oompa loompas, until Cobb pointed out it was beneath his dignity to wear dungarees and Yusuf had bust a gut over the phrase _chocolate river_.  
"Huge patron of the arts in his spare time." Eames continued, "I was tailing him at one of his receptions for a new theatre project he was sponsoring , trying to be as subtle as possible, when I got into a bit of a sticky situation. You know the score, big men with guns rather keen on removing bits of my body without so much as a please or thank you. I was trying to make a discrete exit across the dance floor when I realised they had rather inconveniently managed to cover all my possible exits. So there am I, in a dinner jacket like a lost little lamb sweating bullets, when I see on the edge of the dance floor this bloody gorgeous brunette in a sapphire blue dress looking straight at me and smiling. Properly smiling, not like she'd had seventeen glasses of champagne and was trying to pick me up, but smiling at me as if I was the guy she'd been waiting for all bleeding night. And I forgot about the nasty bastards with big guns, just like that," he snapped his fingers, "they could kill me after I'd spoken to her. If you're going to die, I decided, die happy. So I shoved my way through everyone, graceless as I've ever been, got right up to her and said "I may be about to get shot, but if you'd dance with me first I don't think I'd mind all that much." "  
"And what did she do?"  
"She laughed, which was a relief. Usually honesty gets you a swift slap around the chops. Then she said if that was a line it was the best one she'd ever heard." I choked a short huff of laughter.  
" _Come on_ Eames, did you dance with her?"  
"Yes." He smiled fondly, "for about two hours, which felt like nothing. She smelt like honeysuckle and I think it went straight to my head. By the time we were done Kinsale's goons must have decided I was nothing more than a drunken lothario, since I'm still here in one piece. So we left, we went to a cafe, I bought her coffee, we talked until 4am, I gave her my jacket, she laughed at all my jokes, I lapped all her compliments up, it was...we just clicked. We both know the art of disguise, I think, and that gives us an understanding. She can change the real world with a flick of a brush, as easy as I change faces in a dream. She's taught me a lot." He finished quietly, toying with his cup.

"So what are you doing for Valentine's day?" I asked. "Jumping out of another cake?"  
"Ah no, not this time." He sat back, focusing on some point in the distance, softly amused. "I've got it all planned. I'm going to make pizza and margaritas, buy her flowers, but not roses because she thinks roses on Valentine's Day is contrived, then we're going to sit on the sofa at her place in our pj's and have a _Star Wars_ marathon. All six, if we can, eat popcorn and snuggle like the snuggliest bunnies you ever met. Including you and Arthur." He grinned. "I've even bought pj's specially. Tartan ones."  
Unbidden I felt myself grin back. "God, Eames. Who would have known you were so romantic?"  
"Not you, it would seem." He quirked his eyebrows back at me. "So, what's with asking me about Valentine's Day? Don't you and Arthur have some swoopingly grandiose night of passion planned? They're back from Berlin that day, so I imagine you'll be up all night, swinging from the rafters, rose petals on the bed and naughty underwear thrown hither and yon." He watched me quietly twirl my coffee cup in my hand. "Or don't you?" I sighed and said nothing, letting his eyes crawl over me like bugs.

"Ariadne, look," he sat forward again, "It's one day of the whole year and it really means nothing..."  
"It's not that." I snapped, meeting his look full on.  
"Then what? Arthur doesn't do Valentine's? Odd choice for a man who got engaged after having sex in a moonlit lake, I admit, but..."  
"Eames! God, how did you know that?" I blushed fire hydrant red.  
"It was rather obvious. Cobb and I come back to camp and find you ensconced in the same tent, the next week you've got a sweet little diamond clapped on your dainty little mitt and he's wandering around telling the world and his granny you're serious, you move into the same apartment and start buying bed linens at the weekends...It's not rocket science. So come on, what's the problem?" We sat in silence while I fiddled with my drawing equipment and tried to think of the best way to say I was clueless about what to do, desperate to make it something special and surprising without throwing Arthur into some kind of brain freezing funk.

"The thing is," Eames said eventually, "romance and all that guff can look massively fake if you over think it. Romantic is about doing something different but still personal, you know? You and Arthur live in the same flat, you work at the same job, you've got a routine which you like. You don't live so far in each other's pockets you're suffocating, but you're not so distant you never know what the other is up to. Which is good," he added hurriedly, seeing the mortified look on my face, "nauseating, but good. You've got a lot of respect for each other. You don't take each other for granted. You don't shove it in anyone's faces, which I can only thank you for. So perhaps..." he hesitated, then gave me a small smile, "perhaps you should crank it up a notch. Surprise yourselves." I frowned at him, my brain making chaotic loops.  
"What the hell does that mean? Air planes sky-writing _I love you Arthur_ over Paris? Thirty red Moleskines wrapped in a bouquet? Edible panties?" The smile dropped and he blanched.  
"There was an image I did not need. No, not like that. Listen, I know a place and the owner owes me a favour. It might just do. What do you say we blow off work and go and have a look? You're not doing anything important, are you?" He ran his laser sharp blue eyes over my desk and drawing board.  
"I guess not." I admitted. I had been trying to rough out some ideas for our next client, but fuck it, they could wait. 

"Excellent. Come on then." He stood, picking up my jacket and holding it out for me. "Arthur won't know what's hit him."

\---

"This is amazing." I breathed, staring around the room.  
"Isn't it?" Eames had flung himself on the shiny black leather couch and was now watching me going goggle eyed at my surroundings.

We'd walked up a tiny side street off the Boulevard de Port-Royal, identical to the thousands I walked up and down in all my time in Paris, past a patisserie, a pizza restaurant and a Thai noodle house; tall pale stone houses crowding up to the sky; narrow windows decorated with elegant iron balconies dotted here and there, gauzy white drapes hiding the wonders that nestled within. Eames had opened a dark green painted door tucked neatly into a corner of the street, ushered me inside and up three flights of narrow stairs, unlocked an inlaid wooden door and we had walked into... _this_.  

It was like being inside an incredible, opulent, almost baroque, bubble. Mirrors sent darts of light around the living room where huge black and white images of a statue from the Louvre I was sure I had sketched one rainy afternoon filled one wall. Chandeliers hung from the hall and living area ceilings like captive icicles. The furnishings screamed to be touched, red velvet and black leather calling to my fingertips like sirens singing. A huge red rose filled the floor of the hallway and beyond the living area I could see a deep red circular space, the panoramic view it offered showing the metallic glint of the river as it slunk through the city. Everything was calculated to drug the senses, be it through sight, touch or even scent- the entire place smelt of a delicious mixture of raspberries, lilies and coffee.

"Have a peek in the bedroom." Eames' comedy leered. "Now that's really something."

I wandered through in a daze to find myself in a room disguised as heaven. "There are lights in the ceiling." I called back like a dumbstruck fool. "In the ceiling!" And it's painted like clouds on the floor and the roof and, oh my god is the bed _floating_?  
"And the floor." Eames appeared in the doorway. "And," the leer came back, "there are cameras pointed at the bed so you can watch yourself on TV. What do you think? Think he'll go cuckoo?"

I couldn't stop looking around me in awe. This wasn't my usual thing at all, not by any measure of the imagination, but there was something about it all that just made me want to..."Oh god yes." I exhaled softly. "I have to do him here. I mean," I stuttered, my face blaring red as Eames started to laugh, "we have to stay here."

"Never fear sweetheart. I quite understand. Let's see what we can do, n'est pas?"

\---

"So," Eames sat back at his desk, folded his arms behind his head and gave me the full benefit of his coral pink and gold printed shirt, "hotel booked, some surprises planned I trust?" He watched me fidget in my seat, lifting myself away from the back carefully. 

"Yes. The thing is..." I looked out from under my hair, hoping I looked endearing and not like I'd fallen through a hedge backwards. "I really, really want to surprise him with the whole thing so if you could help..." Eames groaned aloud, wadding up a ball of paper in his fist.  
"Bloody hell. Am I wearing a nappy and carrying a bow and arrows? I found you the apartment, wangled the day..."

"Eames, please." I tried for charming, not my natural state so slightly awkward at that.   
"What do you want me to do?" He sighed, muttering as an afterthought, "I am going to regret this, I know it."

\---

So now, on Valentine's Day afternoon, I found myself draped in a grey silk robe, trying to wait nonchalantly in the bright red dance room and distract myself with view of the Pont Neuf. So far reading, drawing and slumping on the bed watching cable had failed, so I had made myself up a glass of the elixir that the owner had thoughtfully provided all the ingredients for and settled for hovering by the glass, rubbing the slightly sore spot on my back and hoping to god Arthur would take this all in the spirit which it was intended. The champagne was ice cool and spiked with fruit, trickling over my tongue in a wash of spice and sweetness. I couldn't get drunk, since nothing is less sexy than a woman half gone and slurring, but even I had to admit it had a certain...warming effect.

I watched the traffic and mentally replayed everything I'd done to make sure Arthur got here. Keys sent by courier with a note giving the address and the request that he come here as soon as he got to Paris. Cobb primed to insist he got a separate cab from the airport. Eames sending a text with a helpful encouragement. I had tried to instruct him on what to say, only to be sharply rebuffed. "You want me to do this, I do it my way." He had snapped. "No cuddly hearts and flowers. So piss off and leave me in peace." Note in our apartment, just in case. Note on my desk ditto. New underwear, of the modest kind. Flowers in the living area. Glass of fizzy 'get it on mix' in the kitchenette. And some other stuff. _God, don't let him freak out..._ I sighed and necked the last of my drink. _Perhaps another glass wouldn't hurt,_ I decided, padding back towards the bedroom, my stomach squirming. _I can wait for him in there, big dirty grin and slipped down shoulder straps, the whole works.  
_  
The champagne fizzed up the sides of my glass in a cloud of golden foam. _Definitely the way to go._

\---

I was drowsing a light, semi alcohol fuelled slumber when I heard the door click open softly, as if someone was trying to be as quiet as possible with an unfamiliar latch. In a panic I rolled over, wiped my mouth in case of drool, tousled my hair, tore off my half undone robe and threw myself forwards on the bed so I was facing the door, stopping only to drag down one of the straps of my camisole before I propped my chin in my hands, bent my legs and mentally encouraged myself to look sultry.

I heard quiet steps move with measured calm through the living area pausing at the bathroom and the kitchenette, which I'd purposely left open with the lights blazing, around the curved dance room ( _what kind of dance was it meant for? Pole? Waltz? Lambada? Stop that! Look sultry!_ ) then gently, gently back towards the closed bedroom door. I was holding my breath as I watched the knob turn so slowly it looked like it was barely shifting at all ( _smile Ariadne, smile!_ ) the hinges noiseless as it released, moving forward a fraction of an inch as I got ready to purr "Hello Arthur."

I was taking a nice, deep inhale to do just that when instead of it opening it kicked back with a crash, making me start and go wide eyed and mouthed in the process and the next thing I knew Arthur was inside the door, coat flaring behind him, gun drawn, his face locked down in a furious frown that promised death or at the very least pain to whomever it met.

"Arthur!"  I squeaked; _I actually squeaked, how massively unattractive was that?_ Watchingas his face went from furious to stunned to amazed at seeing me draped across the bed. His gun arm dropped like a stone. "Ariadne, are you alright?Have you been drugged?" He came towards me, taking a seat on the end of the bed and ignoring everything; the surroundings, my underwear and me in it, the flowers...He tilted my head up, gazing at my pupils then over the rest of my face. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" The surprise was still reverberating through me. "What did you think was happening here?"

He sat perfectly still with my chin in his hand for maybe ten seconds. "Eames sent me a message saying you needed my help." He said extraordinarily slowly, his eyes shifting to take in the room and widening slightly. "He said it was an urgent matter and only I could deal with it... _Oh christ, that asshole_." He had reached me, my grey pointelle panties and camisole, artfully disordered hair and the realisation obviously dawning. "I am going to..." He started to swear, echoing my own feelings almost exactly, then ground to a halt. "Why are you here? Why aren't you at home?" His dark eyes were curious, brow furrowed and the hold on my face softening.

"It's a surprise." I started awkwardly, watching his mouth twist a little at the word. "It's Valentine's Day and I thought you might like to do something different."  
"Something different?" He echoed, looking around him. "Well, this is different, certainly." He came back to me, the merest hint of a smile starting.  
"Different bad or different good?" I risked.  
"I...good. Unusual, but good. Are there lights on the floor?" He looked down suddenly. "There are lights in the floor. And clouds painted on it. And back there there's a room with a picture of a statue's foot on the wall." He was shaking his head as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "And there are mirrors everywhere." He looked down at me, taking me in properly for the first time it seemed. "There are roses by the bed. And you're here, in new underwear." He said quietly, like I'd fallen out of heaven and landed in his lap.

"Happy Valentine's Day." My voice felt tiny, not like my own at all, watching him as he sat there in his neat, grey striped button down, stone grey trenchcoat and khaki slacks, gun forgotten on the bed as he examined me like I was a new and fascinating life form he'd stumbled across, stroking my cheek carefully where he was holding it but not letting me go. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ariadne." He said softly, his voice darker than chocolate, hitting me right in the pit of my belly with a warm shock. "I've missed you."  I was on the brink of opening my mouth to tell him the same thing when he bent down in a wash of his glorious, familiar scent and let me steal his lips instead. "Have you been drinking champagne?" I felt him whisper against me, the ghost of a smile behind his words.   
"Something better," I took his mouth back, greedy for him all over again. "Would you like some?"  
"Let me get this straight," another kiss, this one harder, "you're here, in this interesting apartment, in your underthings, waiting for me," He made a suitably pleased noise when I kissed him again, arching my spine to reach him, "I've been scared half to death by fucking Eames, there are roses by the bed, it's Valentine's Day, this is my surprise and there's something better than champagne?" He was definitely smiling when I took another kiss, putting one hand on his face and nodding in reply. "In that case, how can I refuse?"

\---

I tried not to run to the kitchenette. Having extracted myself from Arthur's grasp with the promise I would only be a minute but also trying to appear cool, calm and collected rather than massively, clumsily eager to get him butt naked and do the horizontal mambo; an operation which had involved him letting me get to kneeling before he wrapped his hands around my torso and refused to let go until he'd pretty well worn my mouth out with his own, groping me through my clothes and making desperate noises from his chest. "Don't be long." He'd warned when I finally peeled myself away. "I haven't seen you for a month and it wasn't fun. I have plans." He added darkly, one hand straying down the curve of my ass. 

How I managed to assemble the cocktails without dropping anything, spilling it down myself or screwing up the mixture completely is beyond me but somehow I got to the end of the recipe with two rather delicious drinks that I was fairly sure wouldn't poison either of us. Having convinced my hands to stay steady as I carried them back they nearly came to a rather messy end when I breezed back into the bedroom, big smile on my face...only to be met with Arthur lying across the bed, exactly where I had been when he burst in, apparently butt naked.

With a rose between his teeth.

 _What the hell...?_ I stopped short and gaped. I took in his come hither look, raised eyebrows and filthy smile coming from around the stem; the miles and miles of glorious, naked Arthur just waiting for me to have my way with, including the part still covered with his briefs; his hair coming out of it's usual strict, slick confines so locks were coming down onto his forehead and away from the nape of his neck; his pupils dilated and his mouth pouty pink where I nipped it. One hand rose from the coverlet and beckoned me forward from where I'd stopped by the door, his pupils huge in his dark eyes as he watched me try to saunter forwards with a hint of a hip sway and plant myself next to him on the bed.

"You won't be able to drink anything with that in your mouth." I could feel my smile curling up the corners of my lips. "And this is better than champagne." I took a sip from my own glass, making an exaggerated _mmm_ of delight, watching him watch me swallow. "You don't want it? More for me then." I teased, taking another mouthful as he sat up and closed the space between us, his mouth suddenly on mine. The stem of the rose was caught in the void between our lips as he tilted my head down, the last of my sip swept up by his tongue before he pulled back, leaving the flower in my mouth. "That is nicer than champagne." He smiled, eyes crinkling. "Pretty rose by the way."  
"Would you like your glass?" I spoke around the stem, holding out his drink and watching as he eyed it.  
"No. I like...the alternative better." A finger and thumb grasped the rose and took it from me, dropping it on the bed. "I was trying to seduce you. Did it work?"

"Definitely." I grinned back, taking another mouthful of my cocktail, the spices and fruit prickling my tongue as I bent over him, pressed my mouth to his and let him drink from my lips. Each drink became a kiss, his hands on my face as I sipped from one glass then the other, letting him swallow deeply then lick each drop from me. "I'm never using a glass again." He murmured, his nose pressing into my cheek as his mouth slanted back over mine. "Everything would taste much nicer this way."  
"It would be awkward." I leant back and took another sip, offering it to him.  
"But it's delicious." His mouth sealed back over mine, the shape of his tongue around my lips sending little sparks down my spine. "I'm not thirsty any more." He added softly when he'd swallowed. "Put the glasses down and let me show you how much I've missed you." One hand ran down the length of my upper body, catching at my breast and teasing my nipple with a thumb stroke that made my nerves flame.

Somehow, again I have no clear recollection exactly, I managed to get the glasses to the bedside table without dropping them instantly on the floor. When I turned back to him Arthur was sprawled against the pillows, one hand extended towards me and a dark look in his eyes. "Come here." He insisted shortly as I let myself take in his body from his lean legs to his smoothly muscled chest, his erection outlined by the fabric of his shorts just waiting for me to touch it, his breathing making his stomach tense and fall because of me... _God, I am the luckiest woman alive_.

"Ariadne, please come here." He caught my arm, his fingers smoothing down to my palm and catching it in his grasp, forcing me to crawl over the slippery coverlet. "Better." He reached up under the curtain of my hair to where I was leant over him and cupped my face. "I have missed you." His eyes looked straight into mine as I knelt there, my heart fluttering stupidly in my chest from the heat of his look. "I've missed your voice. I've missed your perfume. I've missed your body and your lips and your eyes." His thumbs stroked my cheeks. "I've missed how warm you are. I've missed talking to you. I've missed you pissing me off." He grinned hugely. "I've missed washing your hair and arguing over who reads the paper first. I've missed the way you taste..." His hands drew me down over him, his kiss burning on my skin as he pried my lips apart.  
"I still use the same brand of toothpaste." I mumbled when he let go, watching him grin again.  
"I wasn't talking about your mouth." His mouth rose to mine again, this time dragging my body down over his in a tangle of arms.

His hands went everywhere he could reach as I pressed myself into him, clutching his head and scratching his scalp with my nails. One grabbed the waistband of my panties, ripping them away in a zip of exploding stitches and tossing them away with a body twisting jerk. "I'll get some more." He gasped as I nipped his jaw in revenge, tilting my head back as he pushed my ass down, forcing me into contact with his cock then massaging it until I was rising and falling over him with fevered urgency, the push of his hardness against me making my brain spiral in fevered loops. I could feel the rumble in his chest as I worked, my hands on his shoulders as I licked ribbons up his neck, catching his earlobes between my teeth and sucking on the little pillows of flesh until he was panting. His hands ran up my spine, fingers delving into my hair and pulling ever so slightly, bending my head back again so he could press his lips down my collar bones as I gasped from the fireworks of pleasure/pain exploding behind my eyes.

"On top," I demanded when he let go, "get on top of me." I ground my hips down, hearing him growl  
"Fuck yes." In my ear as he jacked up against me, rolling us over in a hot, sweaty tumble of hair and bodies. I surged up as he pressed down, hands braced over my shoulders and every muscle tight. "I missed you," I insisted between mind bending kisses and thrust of his hips. "I missed your voice. I've missed the way you smell." I grabbed at his back, urging him towards me. "I've missed your body. I love your body." He chuckled, biting off when I ran my fingers over his chest, pinching each nipple until he was gasping, eyes clenched shut. "...loves you too." He rasped.  
"I've missed your mind. I've missed your conversation. I've missed your clever, clever tongue." The kiss I got in reward made my scalp prickle and my hands wave uselessly in empty space; _Oh fuck, Arthur_ the only thought in my head; his body meeting my body making me molten and sticky with desire. "I've missed your cooking. I've missed watching movies with you." I panted stupidly, making a grab from his underwear and yanking it down his backside as hard as I could, forcing him to put his weight on one hand and finish the task with an impatient wriggle and kick.

"Oh god that's good..." He breathed into my ear once we were finally skin to skin below the waist, then stopping suddenly with wide eyes. "You're..." He hesitated, looking puzzled, as if his sense of touch was misleading him.  
"Couldn't feel it through your boxers, could you?" I shimmied my hips back and forth, letting him get used to the smooth skin. "You want to have a look?" He gaped at me momentarily, then peeled himself off me, dropping his head down to look at where he was lying against me and where I'd been waxed bare ( _thank god for painkillers_ ).

"Oh now that..." He looked back at me after a long minute, a positively dirty smile on his face. "That's just asking for trouble." He began to crawl backwards, his mouth dropping kisses on my skin, pausing to crown each nipple before he carried on. "Oh god, I can see how wet you are from here." He carried on down my stomach, his hands sneaking under my hips so I was forced to rise up to his face, warm puffs of breath over the newly exposed skin making me shiver when he spoke. "This is so fucking sexy. I've never liked this until right now." Kisses sprinkled over my bare mons, down my lips and back up, the tip of his tongue stealing drops of moisture where they were creeping out from inside me. "Oh fuck, Ariadne. Oh fuck..." He exhaled just before his tongue parted me and I was arching into his lips as he licked me all over my exposed sex. Every inch of skin, all the freshly uncovered parts of me as well as those deeper within. It felt almost electric when he grazed over me, outside, inside, around my clit or over my labia as I begged him not to stop, my feet curling into the sheets in tight knots. "God," he looked up at me suddenly, his face a picture of aroused shock, "there isn't a single hair left. It feels incredible. _Holy fucking..._ " His mouth went back down, a growl of want leaving his lips as he carried on devouring me.

"You like it?" I arched up to him again, letting him hum a yes over me. "I never did it before. I wanted to do it for you." My chest was heaving, the steady friction of Arthur's tongue as I rolled against it making me molten inside and out, while he spelt the only letter of the alphabet that mattered over and over on my clit: _I, I, I, I, I_ ; making me pulse, my fingers and toes clench as the blood beat through me harder and harder until I was shocked into an orgasm, bubbles of pleasure pouring through me in hot, sweet waves as I told the room his name over and over again.

"I love it." His voice was rough in my ears as he finally stretched out next to me, his body hard against my side. "Thank you." His kiss tasted of me when he found my mouth, his hand stretching lazily over my chest as we embraced.  
"You're welcome." I nuzzled against him, gently rubbing my thigh into his groin. "Would you like make love now?" I listened to him groan before I whispered, trying to sound for all the world like I had a smoky, syrupy voice and not like a phone sex operator, "Would you like to fuck my bare pussy?"  
I swear he choked, surging against my leg. "I would. Oh good god, I would." Our hands tangled into each other's hair as our mouths met this time, his hips pushing out an insistent nudge against my thigh, he was so hard I was wondering how he hadn't come yet; _obviously his famous will wasn't the only thing made of iron_. I pulled myself back and keeping my eyes on his began to wriggle down the satin coverlet, one hand trailing over his slick, hot skin. "I missed how you taste too." I rolled on my side, pressing a kiss to his stomach. "And I don't mean your mouth either."  

He started to laugh softly just as my tongue ran up the length of him, so instead it turned into a sharp in breath. I was only intending to taste him, make him wet before we finally got down and dirty, but when my mouth closed over him and he sighed my name it made me want to keep going until he was begging. I braced my hand on his hip as I dipped down again, my tongue rasping over him as I traced the lattice of veins back and forth. It wouldn't take much, I realised as he rolled against me making a sharp little keen. I could just suck my cheeks around him like this ( _his hand in my hair tightened_ ) and keep licking like this ( _I heard him swear in harsh guttural stream_ ) until he...

"Ariadne," he groaned like he was in pain, "not like this. Not yet. Please." He rolled away from me, fighting to keep his breathing slow, the hand in my hair smoothing down my cheek. "Not...I need you." He said quietly. I looked up to find him gazing down at me, his face serious and so soft it made me want to kiss him all over again. "Please." The single word sent a shiver through me, all the dirty thoughts in my head leaving so fast it made my brain spin but I couldn't refuse him, not like this.

"Sit up." I pressed a kiss into his palm and rolled myself away from the quilt, bracing myself down on my knees with my back to him. The room shimmered blue and sparkling white around me as he slid over the rustling fabric, settling behind me. "Are you sure?" He asked, the tender question coming with a kiss to my neck and two careful hands working up my camisole to uncover my skin. "Yes," I tilted my head to one side to let him leave more, down over my shoulder as the fabric lifted away in a airy rush. "I trust you. I want it like this." I murmured as he cupped my uncovered breasts, rolling them under his precise grip until I was taut against him.  
"Lean forward." He pushed against my back, rising with me as I tipped forwards onto my hands and knees, revealing something that had been hidden from view until now both to his eyes and the fingers looping down my spine. "Arthur, I..." I started as I felt his pause, praying he wouldn't be repulsed, ready to defend myself, ready to argue my corner and kick him into touch if he so much as dared...

"Oh... _Ariadne_." I heard his exhale, then a delicate brush over the spot right on my backbone at waist height. I had two As, one in a heavy serifed type, the other in a looping script bisected by a single cross bar, the descending stroke of the first crossed by the ascending stroke of the second; tattooed in black ink over a space he could circle with his joined finger and thumb. "This is us, right?" His palm smoothed it, feeling the slight raise of the ink under my skin, wonder bleeding into his voice. "It's perfect. I love it." I closed my eyes as he kissed the spot, lips gentle over the new scar, anything I had been planning to say running out of my head.

"It's mine." He carried on as his hips rose to meet mine, lining up to me and pushing himself inside deliberately slowly, letting me ease around him. _So full, god so full_. But instead of gripping my hips in his hands and fucking me stupid, I felt him lean forward, covering my back with his warm skin, then his arms slipped down mine, tracing the curve of my biceps and forearms until his hands covered mine. I worked my fingers open and let him weave his into the spaces, his middle finger stroking my engagement ring as his grip sealed, hard and reassuring; wrinkling the slippery quilt in my grasp.

"You are mine." A statement, not a question, low in my ear as he began to rock into me slowly, letting my body open to his. I didn't feel smothered by him arched over me. I didn't feel crushed or overwhelmed like I had thought I might when he covered me. It was as if he was wrapping around me as much as he could, some wordless gesture of protection and possession: _I'll be your spine. I'll be your armour. I'll take the bullet or the blow and I will love you with all my selfish heart._

"You're mine." I replied softly as his mouth put more kisses over my shoulder and the side of my face. We were rolling into each other, the rhythm of two bodies finding one pulse. I could feel myself melting into a softer, less desperate arousal, the push release of Arthur filling me as his body curled over mine no less what I wanted, but making the heat in my body burn with a different flame. "So good." He breathed as I felt myself tighten around him, "I've missed you so much. I've missed being inside you." I shivered at that, the twinkling lights and airy clouds decorating the room shimmering as my eyes closed with a hard oh of sound.

"I missed you too." Our bodies were rocking together a little harder and I twisted my head back for a kiss, tasting the sweat on his lips like nectar. "I missed you touching me. I missed you inside me." His grip tightened as he kissed me again, hips pressing down into mine. "You make me feel so incredible." I was losing control of my tongue, words spilling out of me as my body began to tingle and come slowly and surely undone. The ache between my thighs was a steady beat, beat beat as Arthur's cock stroked me from the inside, his breathing a rough pant against my ear as he thrust harder. I was so wet it felt like I was flooding around him, every part of me alive with shocks arrowing into my core.

I grabbed his hand, shifting our weight and pressed our palms over where we were joined together, his fingers rubbing mine as I touched him, his body moving in and out of me and mine, so slick and alive it was almost dizzying. "Oh my god, Arthur." My voice ached in my ears. "Like that, it's good like that. I want it like that." I was begging and I didn't care, bringing my hand higher so I was rubbing my clit, his fingers rippling through mine as we started to crash into each other. I could hear him groaning against me, the word _please_ falling from us both as grace left, hips crashing together as my fingers, his fingers I could barely tell which, hit my centre over and over until I felt the hot wave rising in me; him inside me, him around me as I screamed, a high wordless wail that shook me as my limbs tightened, my spine curled and my body tumbled down in a burst of pleasure, hearing and feeling only him as he growled in my ears like something feral, hips juddering, hands tightening before he came inside me with pulse and a gasp like nothing I had felt from him before.

\---

It was dark when we got up, hunger making us both too restless to stay in the bed any longer. We had been locked in a lazy series of kisses when my stomach growled, shortly followed by Arthur's making us both laugh like idiots. "Compatible digestions." He'd patted my abdomen gently before dragging me up, throwing me his shirt and snagging a robe from the bathroom and making for  the kitchenette. He saved any comments he might have had about the décor in favour of rummaging in the fridge, coming back with a punnet of strawberries and some brie, which he sniffed approvingly. I found crackers and we pieced together a tiny feast, in between him feeding me strawberries and snorting at the elixir recipe on the mirror.

I was about to settle on the black leather couch when Arthur strolled past me,  ignoring the lounge and making for the bright red room just beyond. "What's this for?" He looked back at me. "There's an ipod in here."  
"It's called the dancing room." I watched as he vanished inside, peering back at me and beckoning with his head. I really had no choice but to follow, finding him fiddling with the player and frowning. Outside Paris glittered with romance, the tower sparkling with lights and the river alive with reflections. 

"So it's for dancing?" Arthur asked over his shoulder, one eyebrow hovering near his hairline, dragging my attention back to him.  
"I would assume so. It has the name and the music after all..." I was stopped by his triumphant _ah ha!_ "Arthur, what are you doing?" He turned to me and opened his arms with a sweet smile.  
"Dance with me then."  
"I can't really..." Arthur closed the space between us, both arms sliding around my waist in a crinkle of cotton and bringing my body up to his.  
"Ariadne, put your hands on my shoulders, shut up and dance. It's romantic." I looked at him, his damn smile making me want to comply even against my better judgement.  
"Fine, but if I tread on your toes you only have yourself to blame."

"Shh." He insisted, starting a gentle sway that even I could follow as clear, lonely guitar notes began to fall through the room, followed by a man's voice, whisky and tobacco rough as the words seemed to bleed from him.

 _Today is gonna be the day that they're going to give it back to you,  
By now you should have, somehow, realised what you've gotta do,  
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do  
About you now_,

I let my head rest on Arthur's chest, my lashes brushing the white lines of old scars where they crossed into brutal kisses. One of his hands came up to rest between my the wings of my back, fingers splayed wide and warm against me. He smelt like skin, safety and comfort as his steps turned and circled us. I could feel him breathing over my forehead, the stubborn hammer of his heart in my ear. No totem had ever made reality more sharp or more fragile than that sound. Life, desperate waves of it fighting through us both. 

 _Maybe  
You're gonna be the one that saves me_

 __"I love you Arthur." The shape of the words pressed over his skin from my lips, such a small charm to try and hold back all the horror in the world as he breathed out, the hand on my back coming up to pick up my face and turn it up to his. His dark eyes, his fine lips and strong bones, even his elf ears (a name he liked to tell me he hated but secretly, I had decided, he was rather fond of); the person who somehow had made it past my prickly, hyper achieving, _look how smart I am_ exterior to become...the thought tumbled away, too terrifying to touch. 

"I know." He leant down and kissed me, the careful kiss of someone reverent  ( _If I profane with my unworthiest hand/ This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:/ My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand/ To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss._ My mind supplied from some distant, dusty corner.) I heard him whisper, bringing me back to his chest and smoothing my hair down my back; "I love you Ariadne. I love you." 

"Happy Valentine's Day." I told his heart softly, letting it beat it's strange Morse under my hand as it's benefactor replied: The words so much less important to me than the fact Arthur was there to say them, to dance with me and let me know how it felt to be something much, much more than half of a whole.  

  
~*~

**Author's Note:**

> A/N's  
> This fic is for everyone on Valentine's Day, but most especially[](http://elliesmeow.livejournal.com/profile)[ **elliesmeow**](http://elliesmeow.livejournal.com/) ,who requested it. I hope this is what you wanted and that it brings you a smile. My love, for all it's worth, to you all.
> 
> The Magnus Eames refers to is the late, great [Magnus Magnusson](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnus_Magnusson), host of Mastermind.
> 
> One By Five is at 8 Rue Flatters, Paris. You can see some photos of it [here](http://www.onebythefive.com/)
> 
> The song they dance to is Ryan Adams' heart breakingly lovely version of _Wonderwall_ (copyright to N.Gallagher/Creation, 1995; R.Adams/Lost Highway, 2004) which you can hear [ here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gVxRvNfFLg)
> 
>   
> The quote is from _Romeo and Juliet_ (I.5. _93-96_ )   
> 


End file.
